


Creatures

by ManyRelish



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: AU, M/M, Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyRelish/pseuds/ManyRelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was here to help the patients—the victims—of the surgery, of this sick biological science funded by the government. They claimed these people would help society, but Atem knew they would be forced into wars. The successful ones would be, anyway. The failures would be cast off as rejects, the scientists not really caring what happened to them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Atem. Atem look at me. Atem Yami, I know you can hear me. Look at me. Don't listen to them. You aren't a failure, you didn't deserve what they did to you. It's alright, Atem._

 

Atem Yami sighed, staring at the mirror to the small bathroom in his tiny house. Dark skin, insane, unkempt hair (with yellow highlights), crimson eyes that both loved and hated... This was the plot they provided him, his employers. Sure he could go buy something larger, but it would be farther away, and for his purposes small was beneficial. The bathroom was rather bland, as bathrooms go. There was a toilet and a shower and a mirror, but not much else save for the sink and it's various drawers. Even the walls were plain, Atem felt no need to decorate them. For his work it may end up getting in the way.

The rest of the house was a little fancier, there were two bedrooms, each fully furnished with a bed, dresser, desk and chair, and a window. Atem decorated mostly with plain things. Too many patterns would be confusing. The bedrooms were across from each other, and connected to the large living room. There were two couches there, a coffee table between them, all plain. Connected to the living room was the kitchen, separated by a bar and a free-swinging door. That was about it for the house, plain, block-like colors (they all went together rather well), suited for the insane.

Because that's just what Atem worked with, the insane.

He was expecting a new client today, one fresh out of the surgery all his clients went through. They decided it was “for the benefit of all man kind” if they injected some thick, pinkish liquid into voluntary human beings. The effect it had was different for every person who went through with it, some sprouted wings, some became animal-like, some even developed robot-like capabilities. But with these abilities came the mental stress that could drive even the most sane man insane. It could take months of nonstop therapy to help these people, and he was only allowed that if they were a dire case. It disgusted Atem, it disgusted him to no end. But was why he was here. He was here to help the patients—the victims—of the surgery, of this sick biological science funded by the government. They claimed these people would help society, but Atem knew they would be forced into wars. The successful ones would be, anyway. The failures would be cast off as rejects, the scientists not really caring what happened to them.

There was a knock at the door. That must be the new patient. Atem answered.

The boy couldn't have been more than 12, but his age wasn't what surprised Atem. The boy had a strange resemblance to him, almost uncanny. Save for the pale skin and violet eyes (and shortness, but Atem wouldn't dare go there), the new client looked exactly like Atem. Especially his hair. Rather odd.

“He just woke up, we figure it would be best to get him some place nice and comfortable,” said the boy's escort, a rather nice-looking intern named Anzu. Atem never did understand her feelings on this project.

The boy looked at Anzu, scared to leave her side. His eyes pleaded with her. Don't leave me with that man, please.

“You can go with him, it's okay,” Anzu told him. “Dr. Yami will take good care of you, don't worry. Oh, I almost forgot!” Anzu fished through her bag, looking for the file folder Atem was so used to being handed every time he received a new patient. Atem took it, glanced over it, then nodded.

“He's in good hands,” he assured Anzu, though it was mostly for the boy's sake. Anzu knew Atem was trustworthy.

The boy looked a little frantic when Anzu left, and even more so when Atem closed the door. Atem tried to put on his warmest smile.

“Okay, let's start with introductions, shall we? I'm Doctor Atem Yami, and I'll be your psychiatrist. You can call me whatever you like, I don't have a preference. And you are..?”

The boy stared at him, then looked down at his hands. Atem prompted again, but no words were said. Atem frowned, opening the folder.

“Alright, Yuugi Mutou..?” The boy looked up at his name. “I guess I'll have to spend time reading this since you don't want to talk, but I won't force you to.” Atem looked over it. Name: Yuugi Mutou, Sex: Male, Age: 17, Ethnicity: Asian—wait what? He was 17? Atem looked at Yuugi, then at the folder, then Yuugi. “Yuugi, how old are you?” No response. “It says here you're seventeen, if this true?” A pause, then a nod. Atem sighed. At least the other patients had spoken a little. Perhaps this would wear off by the next day.

“Well, Yuugi,” Atem continued, “this will be your new home while you recover from treatment. We'll both be living here, so if you have any need for anything at any time, feel free to get me. I'll start you off with a tour.” At this point, Atem led Yuugi around the living room, showing and explaining the various rooms and what they were used for. Yuugi didn't seem particularly fascinated, but he didn't look bored, either. He may still have been in shock from the surgery.

Yuugi never said any words for the entirety of the evening. He sat quietly as Atem cooked dinner, he sat quietly as he ate, he sat quietly as Atem asked him questions, he sat quietly while Atem looked through his file. Yuugi Mutou, enjoyed puzzles, came from a poor family. Apparently he had decided to do this in order to get money for his family. He never truly wanted to go through with it, but the money was impossible to pass up, and even though his family urged against it, he had gone through with it anyway. Atem looked up at Yuugi. The boy was sitting across from him, hugging his knees. He was still in those stupid hospital clothes—white scrub and shorts. Atem needed to get him out of those, but the boy didn't seem to have any clothes of his own. There was probably something Yuugi could wear in Atem's closet. The psychiatrist motioned for Yuugi.

“C'mon, let's get you something decent to put on.”

The clothes Atem chose only accented Yuugi's innocent cuteness. Atem's shirt was a little too big, and it just hung loosely around Yuugi's legs, accompanied by a pair of black sweats. Yuugi looked at him, tilting his head slightly as if asking why Atem was doing this.

“Well,” Atem sighed, “at least you aren't in that hospital gown anymore.”

Yuugi's refusal to speak continued through the next day, and the day after, and the week after, as so on. No matter how much Atem prompted, the boy would not utter a single word. If it weren't for Yuugi's little squeaks of surprise and pain during mental or physical therapy (mental therapy was a little difficult since Yuugi refused to talk), Atem would have branded the child mute. Yuugi, however, was not mute and therefore branded “shy” instead.

It didn't take Atem long to notice Yuugi's attraction to games. Hardly a day had passed since his arrival before he found the Rubix Cube and solved it 37 times (Atem knew this because Yuugi would draw a line on a piece of paper every time he solved it). The puzzle seemed to calm him down, he almost looked comfortable. As days went by, Atem found him more puzzles to play with, as well as a polygonal and 10x10 Rubix Cube to play with. Playing with Yuugi (Atem called it “therapy”) reminded the psychiatrist of the days when he was this kid's age. He was jokingly called “The King of Games” among his friends. He was always rather proud of the title.

After a few days a suitcase arrived with some of Yuugi's belongings. His family had apparently realized that Yuugi wasn't coming back anytime soon and sent him the things they thought he'd really miss. Days turned to weeks turned to months, and it was only a matter of time before Atem heard that familiar knock on the door. He looked at Yuugi, who was intently working on a 5000-piece puzzle. Atem answered the door.  
“Good morning, Dr. Yami,” said a fat man. He was well in his fifties, completely selfish, and the worst guy to put at the head of training the “newbies.” He was simply known as “Mr. Smith.”

“Mr. Smith,” Atem replied.

“How are things going with the new kid?”

“Well, I suppose,” Atem stepped to block the door a little more. The action didn't go unnoticed, and Mr. Smith beckoned for someone to join him—a tall, broad-shoulder man whose name Atem wasn't familiar with. His hair was insanely pointy.

“Dr. Yami, I do believe it is time to take him back to where he belongs,” Mr. Smith said.

“I suppose you don't mean he's going home, do you.” It wasn't a question.

“Of course not! I just need to know what he can do, and I'll take him under my wing.” The fat man moved to step past Atem, but the psychiatrist slammed his hand against the door, blocking Mr. Smith's path.

“He's not ready.”

“You said things were going well.”

“They are, for a seventeen-year-old child who just underwent a life-changing operation.” Atem couldn't hide the disgust in his voice.

“You make it sound like it's a bad thing.”

“It's a terrible thing!”

“Dr. Yami, you can't hold on to him forever.” Mr. Smith glanced at the man behind him.

“He doesn't even talk yet, Mr. Smith! I can't get a word out of him! I've tried everything I know, but not a peep, not even a sign of his power. If he can't control it, he can't leave, and he can't control it if he isn't aware of it!” Atem felt his hand tense up against the door. Calm down.

“Perhaps if you tried... endangering him?” Mr. Smith's eyes flashed. Atem snapped.

“You little bastard...” he snarled.

Yuugi's head snapped up. What was going on with Atem's hand? It was... odd.

“Looks like someone's crossing the line,” Mr. Smith sneered. The man behind him lunged, grabbing Atem's shoulders and shoving him back, back into the room. Atem struggled against him, of course. Yuugi squeaked and ran into the kitchen. His eyes drifted to Atem's hand. It was... It was different... odd..? Atem was slammed into the coffee table, the 5000-piece puzzle falling apart, the table splintering and cracking and collapsing and Atem's head hit something sharp and Oh My God it hurt was he bleeding? Then something hit him in the stomach.

“Now, now, Atem, look what you've done to your cute little house, all because you wanted to 'protect' that boy from something that wasn't going to hurt him,” Mr. Smith teased. Atem squirmed under pointy-hair-man's grasp. His arm caught a piece of the fractured table, and a red line followed. He groaned. Yuugi squealed. Point-hair-man punched Atem in the stomach again, he coughed, the other smirked, raising his fist again and then--

“Ow!”

Pointy-hair-man looked at his hand, now red and burned from the whateveritwas that his him. Then his eyes searched for what shot the whateveritwas that hit him. Atem saw it first.

Yuugi was on one knee, somewhat horrified and somewhat determined. One arm was estended, the other holding it to steady it, like it was a gun. Which it was. Yuugi's forearm was a gun, a cylindrical, silver-melt-to-flesh gun. Vein-like wires poked out of his skin and attached to the base of it, an rectangular red lights pulsed a glow on the sides. Mr. Smith stared, shocked. Pointy-hair-man scowled. Atem didn't know what expression he was making.

The weight holding Atem down vanished as Yuugi shoved the hefty man off of him. The boy, his arm returned to normal, clung to Atem's shirt, eyes begging him to be okay. Eyes, those purple eyes that shone with worry, so full of life. Not like the other eyes that stared at him, the other eyes that begged him why, why, why? Atem felt cold, and a black haze filled the edges of his sight and he had to stay awake no matter what because Yuugi needed him right now. Yuugi was alive.

“Well, I guess we know what he can do,” Mr. Smith said, a smile creeping over his face.

Yuugi let out a small gasp and wrapped his arms around Atem's neck. He stared at Mr. Smith with eyes that said “I won't leave him” so strongly at even the fat man knew it was best to leave the child in Atem's care for now (or vice versa).

“Well, let's go. We'll collect him later, when he's more used to what he can do.” He turned to leave, and the beefy man followed.  
Yuugi stared at Atem. Are you okay? You won't die will you? Atem smiled, raising his hand to stroke the boy's cheek.

“I'm fine Yuugi, don't worry.”

* * *

Yuugi stepped through the doorway to Atem's room. It was probably around three in the morning, but he didn't care. He couldn't sleep and he wanted to be with Atem. The room was dark except for the little bit of moonlight trickling in through the window. Yuugi took another step towards Atem, but then something caught his eye. There was a folder on the desk... Yuugi's? It was his, so there shouldn't be any problem with looking at it, right? Yuugi let his fingers brush over the surface before opening it. It was hard to read in the dim light, but he could see that there were little notes everywhere—doesn't like to talk, enjoys games. Some of the notes seemed a little personal, making Yuugi blush. He closed the folder, and was just about to leave the desk when another thing caught his eye. There was a second folder under his. He felt chills run down his spine as he picked it up and opened it.

NAME: Atem Yami  
SEX: Male  
AGE: 20 (The date on the folder said it was three years old)  
Yuugi almost couldn't continue. What was this? Was Atem...? Yuugi looked over his shoulder at the man asleep on the bed before working up the courage to continue. There were notes on this one, too, but the handwriting was slanted and neater, easier to read even in the dim light. This was not Atem's handwriting.  
“He really hates this place.”  
“Says his friends put him up to this, they were all going to do it. They weren't as lucky as him.”  
“Nice kid, been through a lot.”  
“Just caught a glimpse of his abilities, it's simply amazing.”  
“Had a hard time in training today. Came back for more therapy.”  
“Almost killed someone today, they wanted to lock him up, but I vouched for him. He's staying with me a little longer.”  
“He's getting quieter, he won't talk as much.”  
“He says something hurts, but he won't tell me what.”  
“Keeps complaining about a constant pain. I wish I knew what he was talking about.”  
“Finally got him to show me his wings. I think they're rotting.”  
“Pretty sure they're rotting.”  
“His wings fell apart today. Like actually fell apart, leaving only bone and clinging flesh and feathers. I don't know what to do anymore. No treatment seems to work.”  
“He's been branded a failure, but I refuse to stamp this folder.”  
“It worries him, I told him he wasn't a failure but he wouldn't listen to me.”  
“Threatens suicide often.”  
“Almost succeeded.”  
“Claims to see the dead in his dreams.”  
“He decided he's going to help the others that go through this.”  
“He's actually very interested in Psychiatry. He learns fast. There isn't much I can do for him anymore.”  
“Haven't seen those wings in weeks, wonder if he just got over it.”  
“Got a job here, this is the last time I'll see this folder.”  
Yuugi stared. Atem was... Atem was an experiment? He was like all the patients here? And those guys outside keeping watch? Atem was a monster, like Yuugi? Atem stirred behind him. Yuugi put the folder back where he found it.  
“Yuugi? What are you doing here?” asked a sleepy voice. Yuugi looked at him, eyes sad. Forget it, forget what you saw. Just act like normal. The boy walked over to Atem, putting on his “can I please sleep with you?” face. Atem sighed and scooted over. It wasn't abnormal for Yuugi to do this, but he had a feeling it had something to do with that day's events. His head still throbbed from that.  
The boy snuggled close, Atem wrapped his arms around him and closed his eyes and it was nice. It was really nice.

Yuugi looked at Atem, determination in his eyes. They were playing an old card game, Duel Monsters, and Yuugi seemed to be really into it. How cute of him. Atem had expected to win easily, but he was actually having difficulty beating the boy. He was better than he let on. This little game had started partially because Yuugi had discovered Atem's deck, and partially because Atem wanted to get Yuugi to speak. The game required “I play my trap card” or whatnot to be said out loud, but Yuugi wasn't doing any of that. He did laugh, though. And his laugh was adorable.

* * *

There was a knock. Atem frowned. Mr. Smith had returned, giving them barely two weeks to each other. Atem hated that man.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Yami,” Mr. Smith chimed as the door opened. “Today's graduation for the little tyke, so say your goodbyes.”

“He's not ready, we've barely worked on his powers and he still doesn't talk,” Atem replied, wondering if he could just slam the door in the fat man's face.

“No, no, you don't understand. He's leaving whether he's 'ready' or not.” The man's eyes flashed darkly. Atem realized he should have blocked the door more only as he was being shoved out of the way by pointy-hair-man and another goon of Mr. Smith's.

“What the f—You can't just take him away from me! He's my patient!” Atem snapped.

“Atem, he's been with you longer than any other 'patient.'”

“He needs more attention. I know what you sickos do to these guys once you get your claws on them, he's not leaving,” Atem growled.

Yuugi let out a small yelp as he was grabbed by the goons. Atem spun around and tried to pry them off, but they just pushed him out of the way again. Atem shook his head, the room was starting to spin. They couldn't take Yuugi away from him, they couldn't! The goons left, Mr. Smith following them, and Atem quick to follow him. It all happened so fast he didn't know what was going on but it was happening and oh god it was hurting now. He hadn't been hit, but he was hurting.

“Give it up, Dr. Yami, he's ours now,” Mr. Smith said, glancing over his shoulder.

“God dammit, Smith!” Atem reached out to grab his arm, but he just barely missed. That is, his fingers just barely missed, however, his nails managed to leave four red lines under four slices in fabric. Mr. Smith stared, shocked once again. The goons stopped tugging Yuugi along.  
Atem's hand was clawed, taloned. His other following suit. His breathing sped up, along with his heart rate and god oh god it really hurt now. Why did it hurt so much.

“A..Atem?” Mr. Smith stared in horror as something black unfolded from Atem's back. Wings? No, just the skeletal structure and black flesh hanging on it. Feathers hung on barely to the bone and what was left of that black rotting meat. The wings spread out, like a bird preparing for liftoff or trying to appear aggressive, black spots freckling the ground and walls and whatever else was there to spatter. Thick, black liquid oozed out of his wings, his hands. It was like half-dried ink, gloopy and yet still liquid enough to behave as one. Was it blood? Black, sick black dark gross congealing blood that dripped from what it could because it couldn't stand being in Atem's body?

“Dr. Yami..?”

Atem's breathing became labored, pained, every breath was effort. He groaned, staggering back. Threat was gone. Mr. Smith grinned.

“Looks like you've crossed the line, Dr. Yami. You were nothing but a failure to begin with, weren't you,” he sneered. Yuugi struggled to get free, but the goons' grip on him was too tight. “I hope you learn your lesson. I'm feeling rather generous, so perhaps I'll send Seto down here to help you. Maybe not, I don't know. You are rather annoying.” Such a cruel grin.

Atem fell to his knees, then to his hands. It hurt. That black blood dripped around him like chunky rain. Mr. Smith turned, the goon's turned, Yuugi had no choice but to turn. Atem collapsed to his side. They left. Atem felt his heartbeat speed up and slow down with no pattern at all and that thump thump in his chest was like a circus was he dying?

And then one lone voice called out, high pitched but obviously male. A voice that could only belong to someone Atem had never heard speak before.

“Atem!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many wrongs are righted and questions are answered.

Atem opened his eyes slowly. Where was he? He was on his stomach, and there was a dull pain in his back.

“Welcome back to the world of this living.”

Atem turned his head. He knew that voice.

“S...Set,” he whispered, staring at the tan-skinned brown-haired blue-eyed man the was sitting next to him, wiping a cloth gently over a black pole—no wait, that was Atem's wing. That's right, he remembered now. They had stolen Yuugi from him, and he had felt so angry. He'd awakened the thing he'd tried to hide for years, that angel of death inside of him. He closed his eyes. Seto was cleaning those cursed wings of his, probably rubbing them with a disinfectant that wouldn't do any good. They rotted no matter what.

He was lying on a bed. His bed. How had he gotten there. He looked at Seto, waiting for that man to read his mind as he always did.

“They told me there was a minor problem near your vicinity. 'Minor' my ass. You were practically bleeding to death when I found you lying there. Those bastards, never understanding the work they're doing.” Set paused. “I wish there was a way to set all these people free. Even the ones who came willingly for the powers are afraid of what they can do. The one benefiting from this is the government, using their power to create an elite force of super-humans. God I'd like to punch their brains out. They think people like you are expendable, like everything's perfect as long as it's for the good of the country. It's all a load of bullshit, I tell you.”

Atem smiled a little. “Same old Set Sennen. How many times have I heard this rant?”

Set sighed. “A million and one, probably. My feelings never change.”

Atem closed his eyes again. “Neither do I.”

This time, Set didn't respond. He licked his lips—a nervous habit—then looked down at the man lying in front of him. Atem always beat himself up about what he was. He listened to them, the officials and scientists. They branded him failure, they branded him useless. They didn't know what Atem was capable of and they never would. Then again, Set didn't exactly want them working with Atem, he didn't want them working with anybody. He'd rather all those people be sent home without being experimented on at all. Of course, Set never got his way, that was how things worked out.

The day went on and Set continued his treatment on Atem's wings. It had been known for a while that rotting flesh was not something “ordinary” or “healthy.” However, Set and Atem both knew well that those cursed wings would never heal, never mend, never grow back to the luster they once held. Those wings were doomed to carry the pain of the dead, all those who suffered at the hand of the mad scientists who created the demonic experiment.

That day should have been a boring day, both Set and Atem expected it. But as Atem wandered to the window, he found something unexpected. There was a small group of protestors in the quad, holding signs and chanting various sayings. “Free the people,” “Humans aren't lab rate,” and things like that.

“Set come see this,” Atem muttered. The named did as was requested.  
“First time I've ever seen that,” Set commented.

The girl in front—a girl with white hair and pasty skin—seemed to be really into her protest. She kept waving her sign around. She didn't stop when the others froze in place. Not even when a large guard approached her. He said something to her, she said something back, and he punched. Punched her. Right in the face. She fell back.

Set ran to the door with Atem close behind him, cursed wings hidden.

“What the hell are you doing?” Set demanded of the guard—a bulky man with an armored fist, obviously an experiment.

“Following orders, Dr. Sennen,” he explained. “I was told to get rid of the protestors by any means necessary.”

“And that allows you to assault people?”

“All I want.” He kicked the girl to prove his point. Set let out a growl-like noise and shoved him away from her, creating a barrier with his body. “If you stand in the way, that means I can hit you, too,” said the Guard, raising his hand, fingers extended so the armor became a blade. He lunged, Set didn't flinch. There was the sound of metal piercing flesh. Set gaped.

Atem winced, but didn't move from where he was, protecting Set from the blade that now dug into his arm.

“Lucky me, I get two new toy—” The Guard's voice stopped, his eyes drifting from his hand in Atem's arm to the ground. Black. There was thick black on the ground. It was coming from... Atem? So black, oozing, viscous like spoiled milk. Dripping dripping dripping on the ground and it was blood. Blood, it was blood. It was Atem's blood. Oh good. He jerked away.

“What the fuck is this? What. The fuck. Is this?” he demanded of Atem. The psychiatrist only stared at his arm, quietly, shocked. His blood was... black? It had never been black before. Only that thick disgusting something from his wings was black. But his blood, this was his blood. This was his blood. How could his body deal with it? Like this? Wouldn't that be hard to pump through his body, something of this consistency? He was dragged back to reality by a scream. The Guard was screaming. Wow. Atem stared.

“You're blood! Ugh this is so gross!” he snapped, then ran off. As he fled, Atem couldn't help but notice the lack of armor on his hand. Huh, was he that disturbed? The psychiatrist turned around and looked at Set and the girl he was tending to. She was on her back—awake—and he was giving her basic first aid. They speaking quietly to each other. The girl then let out a soft laugh, like bells ringing. Atem stared longer than he should have and, catching himself, quickly turned away. The protestors were standing around awkwardly, staring in shock at what they had just witnessed.

“You should leave,” Atem told them sadly. “There's bound to be more coming.”

He expected them to turn and go—and some of them did—but then someone cried out, “His blood is black!”

Atem froze.

Set froze.

The source of the voice, a twelve-year-old boy by the looks of it, stepped forward. His eyes glared angrily at Atem, as if it was his fault his blood was black.

“Your blood is black,” he repeated.

“It is,” Atem replied after a moment of silence.

The boy frowned. “Why's it black?”

“I don't kno—”

“You were an experiment, weren't you?”

Silence. Atem just stared at the kid, as did everyone else. This kid had the nerve to ask these things so accusingly? As if Atem hadn't just protected them.

“Well? Why are you helping them? What incentive do you have? You should be destroying this place, since you know how terrible it is!” The boy snapped.

“I want to help the others,” Atem replied.

“Shut up! You think you're so self-sacrificing, but you're not! No one would suffer if you destroyed this stupid facility!”  
Atem stayed silent.

* * *

“Are you going to let it get to you?” Set asked Atem. It'd been three days, and Atem was now sulking on the couch in the living room of his apartment. Set was still staying with him, looking over the file with the notes from three or so years ago. In fact, it was almost just like three years ago. Almost.

The protestor girl—she said her name was Kisara—was staying with them now. Set made up an excuse about her being injured and him having to keep an eye on her. Kisara didn't seem to mind staying with him, either. Atem was beginning to suspect something, but he never asked. He was mostly preoccupied with the little boy's words. Should he destroy this place? It was causing so many people grief, especially people like Yuugi. The boy was so gentle, it was sickening to think of what they were going to put him through. Atem shuddered at the thought of Yuugi shooting at targets, then at people.  
The “Successes” were trained for war.

“Atem,” Set said, bringing the psychiatrist out of his thoughts, “you know that guy who attacked us?” Atem nodded slowly. “Well, apparently he lost his powers.”

Atem stared. “Uh... What?”

“He lost his powers, that metal armor he could create. He can't create it anymore. He's a regular human again.”  
Atem stared at Set, shocked. “He's... How did this happen?”

“I have a few theories,” Set said. “But I'd need to test them. I'd like to start with the easiest and most difficult to believe. Care to join me?” Atem stared, then nodded.

The boy Set chose as his guinea pig was rather young, no more than 14 or so. His black hair was unkempt, his eyes cold and untrusting. Of course, he was an experiment. He could kill by singing, like a male siren. It was known that he hated his power, but there was no known antidote for the poison they injected into him and so many others. This self-loathing he had made him an incredibly unpleasant person, most tended to avoid him altogether. That was precisely why Set pulled him out.  
“What are you gonna do to me today?” the boy asked as Set led him into a bathroom (there were no security cameras in bathrooms) where Atem was waiting for them, syringe in hand. “Oh no, I'm not getting any damn shots!” He tried to run, but Set stopped him.

“It's not for you,” Atem told him.

Set opened a folder. “Kaden, what exactly do you hate about your ability?”

“I wanted to be a singer, y'know try out of American Idol and all that shit. But now I can't cause they'll all die when they hear me!” Kaden replied angrily.

“And there's no way to get rid of it,” Set said.

“Are you just tryin' to rub it in?”

Set continued to distract Kaden while Atem—carefully so the boy wouldn't see—inserted the needle into his arm. The blood came easily (not what he was expecting), but still black. Set had to be wrong. There was no way this strange black substance was an antidote for these people. But Set was adamant about trying it. There was no arguing.

According to the older psychiatrist, there should be no need to inject Atem's blood directly into a patient's bloodstream. The guard who lost his power had only barely come in contact with it, so it should work if he just used it as a lotion. Atem emptied the syringe into his hand, and almost immediately the watery liquid congealed to the consistency of oatmeal. Huh. Maybe it was a mutation designed to keep Atem from bleeding to death (his wings did constantly bleed when brought out). That would explain why it hadn't always been like this. At one point, his blood had been red.  
Atem rubbed it on the back of Kaden's neck.

“Woah! What the hell? What are you doing?” Kaden demanded, jumping away from Atem. “Ew, what is on your hand?”

“It's nothing.” Both Set and Atem had said this in unison, and rather too quickly at that.

The two took Kaden to the sound-proof room he practiced in and instructed him to sing to a hamster. The small creature collapsed after hearing his voice, but on further inspection it showed that the hamster was only unconscious. Kaden's powers had weakened. He was given the hamster as a present and sent on his way with instructions of not to tell anyone what happened. Set and Atem returned to the restroom so they could talk in private.

“I didn't cure him,” Atem muttered.

“But you weakened him. We'll have to keep checking up on him the next few days. That idiot guard didn't lose his powers until three days later.” Set crossed the room and opened the door. “Don't stick around too long, Atem. They'll get suspicious.”

The younger nodded and waited until he was sure Sat was gone. They had to avoid suspicion, and going and leaving the same places together would raise such suspicion. Both Atem and Set were known to be against the experiments. They were here to help the people—victims—not to earn the money. Atem looked down at his arm, a small bruise was forming where he drew blood from himself. This blood of his, could it actually cure these people? He opened the door. Was it possible that his existence threatened everything the government had worked for? The though was amazing, exciting even. He had so much power over them, and they didn't even know! He had the power to put an end to this atrocity! And then he ran into something.  
Or someone.

“You okay?” he asked automatically. Gentle and sad purple eyes looked up at him, brightening once they saw him. A smile spread across that child-like face, and the boy threw his arms around Atem's neck. No words escaped his lips.

“Yuugi!” Atem gasped, taking a step back to balance himself. “Yuugi, you're okay. God I was so worried when they took you away from me! What did they make you do? What did they do to you?” Yuugi looked down, releasing Atem's neck and stepped away a little. He didn't say anything, but Atem was getting used to reading his body language. “Did they make you fight?” A nod. “Did they make you hurt someone else?” Another nod. Atem frowned. To force this gentle child to do such horrific things. Suddenly Yuugi looked up, determination in his eyes. He pointed at Atem. “Me?” A nod. “What about me?” Yuugi rolled his eyes, Atem found his face growing hot at the sight of this child acting defiant. It was adorable.

“You...” Atem blinked. Had Yuugi just spoken? His voice was so soft, maybe he'd imagined it. “Are you okay?”

No, he definitely didn't imagine it. Yuugi had asked him a question, and now the boy was staring at his feet, his face incredibly red. It was even cuter.

“What are you talking about, I'm fine,” Atem said, acting like the spoken words were no big deal. He didn't need Yuugi to feel self-conscious about speaking.

“Wings,” Yuugi replied, pointing to Atem again. “I'm talking about your wings.”

Atem stared. Although Yuugi's voice was quiet and shy, it was at the same time determined and “he won't take no for an answer.” Atem smiled. “Yuugi, you must have had some sort of dream, I don't have any wings.”

“Don't lie!” Yuugi screamed. His hands clapped over his mouth, and both he and Atem stared at each other in shock from the strength in Yuugi's voice. He removed his hands and started again, quieter. “Don't lie to me, Yami. I know what I saw.”

“Yuugi...”

“Please, don't lie to me. I know you're an experiment like the rest of us, I saw your file and—”

“You what?” Atem stared at Yuugi. Yuugi saw his file, all those notes, he had almost killed someone. Yuugi's face drained of all it's color, apparently Atem's expression was angrier than he had meant it to look.

“D-don't get mad, it was just there on the desk and I saw a little of it. Just a little, please, I...” Yuugi's voice was getting quieter and quieter until it completely faded away. He stood there under Atem's gaze, and then ran. He didn't look back once, not even when Atem called for him.

* * *

“Dr. Sennen has requested all patients go to the meeting room immediately. He has something very important to tell everyone,” the woman on the PA system said in that sickly sweet voice of hers. Atem glanced up. That was his queue.  
A month of experimenting with Atem's blood had led to the conclusion that yes: he was the cure. They had done a little research and found that the facility had it's own water supply hidden deep in the depths of the building. For some reason, the scientists believed that normal water would interfere with there work and requested to get all water filtered twice before being placed in the tank. That water was then pumped all throughout the building. The idea was that Atem would contaminate the water with his blood, and then Set would set off the emergency sprinklers and every patient and the chemical that created them would get doused in an antidote. I was a genius plan, Atem had to admit as he walked through the halls of the underground facility. The walls were blank, just like the rest of the building, and it reminded Atem of an asylum. He laughed at the thought. It seemed to fit this place well.

He finally reached the room he was looking for and unlocked it with his badge. That room was also blank, the only landmark worth mentioning in it was the water tank itself. It was huge, raising up at least four times Atem's height, and it appeared to dig into the ground as well. Atem couldn't help thinking about how much blood it would take to give this thing enough contamination to have any effect on the people here. Oh well, he wouldn't know until he tried. Atem started climbing the ladder. Surprisingly, it didn't take that long for him to reach the top. He slowly opened the lip of the tank, holding it up so he could look at what he was about to dive into. Then he pushed it the rest of the way open.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, searching for a knife to cut his arm with. Something hit his shoulder. He heard the bang after he felt the pain. A gun.

“Well, well, well,” said that grossly pompous voice, “look who we have here. Dr. Atem Yami, gonna go for a swim in our little water supply. Well, I figure I might help you out.”

“Smith...” Atem gasped, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other on the rim of the tank.

“I don't know what you're up to Yami, but I don't like it,” Smith continued. Atem heard the click of his shoes as he walked across the floor, getting closer and closer to the ladder.

“What makes you think I'm up to anything?” Atem asked.

“Because you're you, Yami!” Smith fired again, hitting Atem a little lower on the same shoulder. The psychiatrist gasped out and bent over the tank, watching his blood drip into the water. This was terrible and yet convenient at the same time. He jumped into the tank just as he heard another bang! of the gun. Just missed him.

“You're quick, Dr. Yami,” Smith said, climbing up the ladder, “but you can't get away from me in there. I'm gonna make sure you never see the light of day again! Or even the light of fluorescent lights!” He laughed at his little joke, finally reaching the top and aiming at Atem's head. “Good bye, you little pest.” His finger tightened. Atem closed his eyes.  
There was another bang, but it sounded different. Not like a bullet-firing gun, but like a laser being shot. Atem opened his eyes to see Smith doubled over the rim of the tank, face contorted into a wince. His back was smoking. The fat man turned his head a little to look where the shot had come from.

“Oh, it's you, of course. You want to protect your precious little doctor, don't you,” Smith spat. “Well, no one will question me if I kill you both, you fucking homo incest buddies.”

Homo incest buddies? What did he mean by th—oh god it was Yuugi. It was true that he and Yuugi looked similar enough to be related. But why? Why did Yuugi come here? Shouldn't he be with Set, getting cured?

“Leave him alone,” that adorable childish voice growled, losing some of its adorable childishness.

“And what are you going to do about it, kid? You're dead meat!” Smith turned and aimed for Yuugi. That was Atem's chance.  
Arms reached out around Smith's chest, pulling him back. Smith fired, but too late. The bullet his the ceiling harmlessly. There was a huge splash, and Smith fell under the water, now black with mutant blood. Smith tried to say something, but only bubbles escaped his mouth. He tried to swim to the surface but Atem pulled him back, pinning against the bottom of the tank. Smith's face glared back, struggling, making the pain in his lungs worse. Atem felt it, too, but he had to bear it. He had to put and end to this evil man. The wings spread automatically, fingers turned to talons. Eyes dark, murderous. It wasn't Atem Smith saw anymore. No, it was an angel, and angel of death made of the hatred of all the previous “Failures” using Atem as there medium to exact their revenge on Smith. He was terrified, and his eyes showed it. Atem smiled, a demon's smile. He cinched the tie around Smith's neck tightly, then shoved it onto a broken nail to stick there, keep the body from floating up. Smith struggled and struggled and then his eyes closed and there was nothing left but darkness.  
Atem gasped, head breaking the surface.

“Atem!” Yuugi gasped, leaning over the rim of the tank. “You're okay! But... But where's..?”

“It'd be best if you didn't ask,” Atem replied, eyes darkening. Yuugi's face went pale, then he nodded.

“I won't tell anyone.”

“It doesn't matter, no one will look.”

Yuugi blinked, then climbed down the ladder so Atem could get out.

* * *

“C'mon Set! Waddya gotta tell us?” called a rather rude patient from the crowd. Set looked at his watch. Should be long enough.

“I'm here to tell you all to not move an inch,” he said finally, lighting a lighter and holding it up to a sprinkler. The water sprayed out immediately, evincing some cries of surprise from the crowed. The cries slowly turned to murmurs of confusion as the water turned from clear to black. What was it? No one knew.

Set smiled, hair slicked down and black water dripping in his face. The smile faltered when cool hands touched his arm. He looked down.

“Kisara, what are you doing here? You're getting soaked,” he said to the girl. She only smiled at him.

“So are you.” Her hands wrapped around his arm, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “It's beautiful, to see all of this come to an end.” She paused. “Set, you know I...”

* * *

He was barely on the ground before he heard feet hit the ground. Had Atem seriously jumped?

“What are you doing here?” Atem asked, his voice was angrier than he meant it to be. Yuugi flinched.

“I... I didn't know where you were, I was worried.”

“You should be with the others, being cured!”

“But...”

“You could be a normal human again, Yuugi. You don't have to live as a monster like me!”

Yuugi didn't flinch at the words, instead he looked into Atem's eyes, unfaltering. “It's not fair, then you'll be the only one left with these stupid powers. You'd have to bear it alone.”

Atem didn't reply, he couldn't reply. Yuugi was thinking of him, thinking of his well-being instead of the other way around. And it was... It was nice to have someone care. It was nice to be cared about. He smiled. “It's okay Yuugi, I won't be alone even if I am the only one left.” Yuugi tilted his head in confusion. Atem laughed, Yuugi was so cute. “I'll have you, silly.” His lips curled into a smirk, and Yuugi stared, before smiling back and laughing, too.

“You'll always have me, Dr. Yami,” he said throwing his arms around Atem's neck. This time Atem responded by wrapping his own arms around the boy's waist.

“Just call me Atem, Yuugi,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Yuugi replied, nuzzling against Atem. “Okay, Atem.”

Atem pulled Yuugi closer then, tilting his own head so he could access Yuugi's easier. Yuugi returned it, tasting the blood on Atem's mouth, forgetting what it did. Of course, when he did realize it, he didn't care. He'd never felt anything like this before, and it was amazing. Atem pushed him against the tank, their kissing becoming more and more passionate. Neither would say things were getting out of hand, because neither felt things were. And they weren't the only ones.


End file.
